Logs:Wingwoman
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| RL Date: 25 February, 2014 |
| Who: Finne, Freid, Telavi |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi is at Fort to visit K'zin, but Finne wingmans for Freid and ends up terrified. |
| Where: Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| She's been here for a little while now, the young woman with the whiskey-blonde braids; the jacket with its telltale High Reaches knot is folded neatly beside her, and her legs are folded just as neatly across each other at the knee. Every now and again her gaze roams about the cavern, skimming more than anything, and occasionally she chats lightly with the people-- usually young men-- who wander by, but mostly she's engaged in combing out her long hair one braid at a time. "Never ever ever ever ever ending snow," exclaims the galleries' latest arrival. Finne stomps up into the stands, not just for dramatic entrance affect, but also to get some of the snow off her boots and off her clothing. There's a stretch with a slight shrill eeeeeeeee that sounds like a feline whining, and then she's shedding her winter clothes to combat the heat of the Sands. She's not alone either, as a solemn looking man goes through similar motions, minus the theatrics, comes in beside her, helps scoop up her things and fold them over his arm along with his coat and scarf. "I don't think Elaruth is fond of those kinds of noises, Finne," he chides. Any stomping Telavi had done upon entering the cavern, that was definitely to get the snow off too. Definitely. If the exclamation hadn't gotten her attention, if the stomping hadn't, that shrillness definitely does even if it's slight; her expression's obscured by her fall of hair as she looks back at the girl and her-- minder? but that comb, it's moving quite quickly back out toward the ends. "You know you want to be here," Finne remarks, her quick gaze dancing over people, pausing at the comb-wielding woman, before moving on. Ultimately, she stops at Telavi. "Don't be irritatingly good-mannered /now/ of all times, not when you were mooning for the last ten minutes in the barracks about some fantastical vision of a woman you'd seen in the galleries." Is she speaking a little loudly? Are his ear tips turning bright red? "And don't pretend you're so nice either, Frei. She's not even paying attention to you right now for you to pretend you're such a gentleman." Yes, folks, Finne is this man's wingman. Or wingwoman. Or caller outer person. Wingcrasher? It's the sort of thing that-- well, if it were to bring out Tela's dimples, they'd still be concealed, right until she finger-combs her hair out of her eyes to get a better look at the pair. Surely not because she thinks the girl's talking about her-- mightn't that be too presumptuous, even for Telavi?-- and more because it's something to look at. Something that isn't just sitting there. And yes, she's smiling. "Go. Go on." A master at this wingman thing, Finne takes the coats out of her friend's arms and nudges him forward. "Really?" when he balks, she's taking quick strides forwards, ahead of his longer, protesting, steps, and comes right up to Telavi. "I love your hair. Where'd you get it?" Much as if she's talking about a scarf, or a pin, or a comb; something transferable. Lower, she adds, "Could you be nice to my friend? There's talk the eggs will be hatching any day now, and once they do he won't be able to get laid for months." Do the right thing, strange woman with pretty hair! Do the right thing, says the earnest brightness of Finne's eyes. "Oh, I got it at the Benden Gather before last," Telavi is quick to tell her, petting the hair in question. "It was right when he was setting up, so I talked him into a discount so he wouldn't have to bother." It couldn't be the last day, because that would imply that nobody wanted it. In her own quieter voice, though, if after a peek at the man made subtler by how it's through her lashes and not the look-at-me through-her-lashes type, "It's sweet of you, but I'm here to see someone," the touch of regret might or might not be politeness, "and it sounds like it really would be a shame to waste his time." Blue-green eyes smile at Finne, all clear and charming. "Why don't you help him out yourself?" "Really? Are you /really/?" Unmindful of how intrusive this particular line of questioning is. Then, there's that moment of enlightenment and Finne bursts into laughter startling some biddies higher up in the galleries and her companion who's finally caught up. "I didn't mean have /sex/ with him. I mean, we've made out, but he's not my type and I'm not realy his. But no! No sex! I mean unless you wanted to. I just wanted to see if you'd consider being nice to him. He's so shy, so awkward at flirting, so withdr-," "So not happy," interjects Freid. "Excuse her, she's... a handful. I'm Freid." Freed. "This is Finne. You can ignore everything she's said so far." Certainly, his velvet tenor doesn't seem as awkward as the girl was making it out to be. Oh, that brings out the dimples, Tela's smile impish to match. "In that case, I might just be nice to the both of you." Turning that smile up to Freid-- not without a fraction of compassion-- "Well met, Freid. Finne. I'm Telavi," and she offers her palm to cross. "If we raise our voices just a little, I imagine we could be heard all the way to the back row." He is boyishly good looking, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes with a smile that's crooked now and a little self-deprecating. "You don't have to be nice to me just cause what she said. I told you, ignore everything Finne says. Almost everyone else does, except people who can't seem to stop feeding the troll." The troll, Finne, dimples and scoots in on the other side of Telavi. "I was for sure certain I'd memorised the faces of everyone here, but you're not familar and Freid says you're not familiar. And he'd know. I promise you, he has some sort of little black book where he's sketched out all the pretty girls in the Weyr and- oh, look at those shiny eggs." Finne, satisfied with the explosions she's making as the really no good terrible wingman, settles back into the bench and looks out at Elaruth and the two clutches there. "Everything?" Telavi gives him a smile of his very own, her eyes a little rounded, a lot laughing. "But then I wouldn't have met the both of you. And who knows," here she peeks over at Finne again, "she might have been warning me that I'm about to step on some auntie's escapee ball of yarn, and I'll trip and go smack into the next row. No. I'm just visiting. Mostly I just nip in to see my-- well, to see K'zin, but he had to do something and it was cold and," sigh! But. "So you're Standing together? And not related?" That last might be just to tease. "Names aside." Freid remains standing, with that split second look of wanting to bolt out of sheer second hand embarrassment - an embarrassment that seems to have gone over Finne's dark head completely. "Not related," says the girl to the blonde. "Sit down, she won't bite," says the girl to the boy. "I know these things. She looks like the kind of girl who only bites if it's...," there's a small giggle, but Finne doesn't complete that thought at all. No way. "We're Standing in the same group, but I don't think we'll be Standing together on the day. She's on her own. One of those gold eggs is likely for her, and then the world, as we know it, will likely be over." Freid says, finally easing himself by Telavi. He ventures another of his smiles, winsome in its crooked sincerity, unaware in his focus on Telavi that Finne's face has gone pale. "You're a friend of K'zin's? He's the guy who rides the dragon that flew Isyath?" Telavi might angle a mischief-filled glance Finne's way, at that giggle, but neither is she the one to complete the thought, not out loud. Nor to dispute it. No, after that she's turned her gaze to Freid with a little more solemnity-- it's all relative-- and so she too must miss the girl's expression. "Why your Finne?" she asks him. "Why over one of the other girls... or rather, over two of the other girls? Or is this payback," for Finne's teasing of him earlier. "Yes, that's him. We Impressed together too, as it happens." Yes, she's also curling a strand of that long hair around her finger. "Oh, it'd be the world's cruel joke on Fort and me if some gold out there found someone /like her/ their soulmate. But mostly me. I'm planning to Impress bronze as it were." There's a breezy note laced into his words, a jocular quality that reflects in twinkles in his eyes. "S'if we could will that kind of thing to happen. So you're from High Reaches then? Impressed? Let me guess. Bronzerider too, yeah?" Finne's silence is uncanny. It's something that rarely occurs and most portend the end of days. Silent, but not still. She shifts, getting up from her seat and stepping forward to stare a long, brow-furrowed moment at the sands. "Oh? Well, good luck with that, then," Telavi says pretty much as airily; unfamiliar with Finne, little does she know what that silence might mean, especially with the girl being seated-- having been seated-- to the opposite side. She does glance over briefly at the movement, but, "I just can't say whether I impressed bronzeriders, Freid; that would be immodest." And Telavi's just as demure as anything. Freid's grin turns into a full-fledge, both corners up, smile. "Are you weyrbred? Craft?" he asks of the not-bronzerider. "I am. Fortian. Finne's not. Finne?" Suddenly aware that his friend isn't so chatty all of a sudden, he looks to where she was, and then where she is, and his brows tweak in concern. "Hmmm?" There's a distinct note of feigned distraction placed into that guttural response. "Oh!" Animating, Finne flashes a quicksilver smile over her shoudler at the seated pair. "Just wondering what those things have in them. I know, baby dragons, but I wonder what they look like /at this stage/. Or how they really know, but no one seems to be able to answer that one to my satisfaction. You two, go on, canoodling, be happy, be nice to each other. Maybe sneak in a kiss or two so I can nag Freid about what it's like later." "I am weyrbred. Benden," Telavi starts to so-helpfully explain, mirroring his intonation in a way that's extra winsome. But then there's Finne, and though that concern for his friend might speak better of him than otherwise, that note in her voice-- the greenrider slips her comb into her jacket pocket, even if her hair isn't yet done up, for a better look. All that rambling! It might not even take one to know one, but Telavi's lips purse, her own brows drawn slightly together. She glances at Freid, but then her gaze returns to the girl. "No, no, no canoodling, no kissing, not in the cards. Although we can talk about you, if you like," light, light, light. "/Me/?" Finne turns wide innocent eyes on Telavi. "Nothing interesting about the way I kiss. Could use more practice, I'm sure. Say," the brunette turns along the railing, so she's resting her hip and elbow against it. This position lets her look at Telavi and Freid while she speaks. "What do you think of so many eggs in the Interval? Think the dragons know something we don't know? I've been reading records and it seems like they always knew /something/. Y'know?" Freid's eyes glaze over. "She likes reading. A lot. If she's not doing her chores, she's somewhere off reading. /She's/ the one with the little black book of sketches and notes." To which Finne's response is another wide-eyed 'why I'd never!' That wins a laugh from Telavi, lips curving though her expression hasn't wholly eased. Not that she can't move on, leaning to bump poor Freid's shoulder with hers before she asks, "Is it really that many?" Really? "After all, Ra-- the second clutch has several fewer than the first. It does sound like a very interesting book... whoever it does belong to." "Thirty eggs is a lot! And possibly two golds?" The unease of before resurfaces-just this tiny shadowy flicker in Finne's eyes. "I didn't even realiz- I mean, I didn't even know... I don't know. I have to go." That much, at least, is decisive. /She has to go/. "It was nice to meet you, Telavi. Be nice to Freid for me, will ya? His awkwardness needs some ego boosting." Or not, for as Finne departs, Freid looks torn between following after her or staying seated right there by the cute foreign girl. Telavi knows how to fix the last of it, or she might think she does; "It was nice to meet you, too!" she calls after Finne rather than any more substantive reply, and then turns to Freid, lashes only just low enough to shadow blue-green eyes. "You'll go after her?" It's quiet, but hopeful, and a little admiration could be read into it too-- anything but a 'don't you dare.' "I don't know what's gotten into her," starts Freid. "She's usually a ray of sunshine. Literally, even the sun that gets into your eyes irritatingly and you wish it'd leave and somehow, you can't." The soft jaws of a man growing up turn to Telavi and then back to watch Finne's back. "Sorry. You're really nice and I'd love to get to know you better some day, but...," he shrugs. He's known Telavi all of 5 minutes. He's known Finne well... all of five weeks. "Come to the hatching? See if I catch that bronze I expect?" All right, so she was trying to encourage him onward, but a dimple can't seem to resist making its way into existence at that. "That's sweet," Telavi says with complete sincerity. Irritating ray of sunshine. "I'll try to be there, I'll try to see--" even if she'd have eyes for a certain someone who happens to already be a bronzerider-- "Only, quick, what will your name be?" "I have no idea. F'dam? Finne says that's a horrible name. Haven't thought too much on it though. Can't count your wherries before they hatch y'know? Think up something good for Efreidamien. Let me know." Smiling that winsome smile again, Freid gets up and trots out after Finne. Says the man who had just talked of expecting a bronze. Telavi waves, laughing-- perhaps also wincing, because what a name!-- and settles in to deal with her hair once more... and if it's still slightly undone by the time K'zin really is ready, perhaps that's no loss at all. |
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